


some things you'll do for money

by weatheredlaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Incest, References to Torture, Rule 63, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>but the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things you'll do for money

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 10/11/2011 on my livejournal [here](http://weatheredlaw.livejournal.com/56885.html).

Dean knows what's wrong with Sam. She's had a long time to think about it and an even longer time to figure out what to do about. And in the end, she figures there isn't much difference between the two of them these days so, hell, they might as well be fucked up together. Her and her octopus-arms brother, with a couple hundred miles on the road between them and not much to show for it but the bar tab they've been racking up all night.

"He's watching you like an _animal_. I'll kill him. I will, if I have to."

"He's eighty, Sam. He probably fell asleep with his eyes open. Be a good girl and finish your beer. I'm exhausted." Sam looks sad and weepy and finishes his drink before letting Dean haul him out of the bar after throwing a couple twenties down and dragging him back to their room. 

"Are you lonely?" Sam wonders as Dean finally manages to get the door open and toss Sam onto his bed.

"With you? Never."

"No, I mean, like...like _lonely_ , Dee. Are you lonely?" Dean leans back, watching Sam struggle to get out of his clothes and under the sheets. "I just think that you are sometimes. 'Cause it's just me, you know. I'm the only one and you're like... _you_ and you need more, you know?" Sam shakes his head and drags the blanket over his shoulders. When Dean is sure he's asleep, she bends down and presses a kiss to his temple.

"I don't," she whispers. "I don't need more than you, Sammy." Maybe he hears her, maybe he doesn't. Sam grows very still and Dean realizes he's deep, deep asleep. She covers her mouth with her hand to stop the sob from escaping that she's sure will wake him and sits on the edge of her bed. 

Fourty years, she spent in hell. And it didn't matter if the blade was in her hand or her gut -- she missed Sam so much that it was more painful than any torture Alistair could think of. And then there were the days when he would _look_ like Sam. When he would come to her and touch her and remind her of everything she'd lost and everything she'd left behind. _Remember who you died for? Remember me?_ And the fake Sam would cradle her against him until her neck snapped and she'd wake up again with Alistair's sour breath in her face and blood dripping down her legs. 

_Stupid, stupid girl._

 

Dean drives. There are things she needs, like Sam and sleep and answers to life's questions that she just hasn't sorted out yet. But there are things she wants, too. There is a danger there, in the line between then. The line between what she wants and needs. The line between needing Sam and having Sam. The line between the things she should and shouldn't feel. The days of Dean Before Hell and After Hell.

This is Dean A.H. -- loose and wanting and _needing_ , not so different than the one that slept in the bed next to Sam in the days before. Not so different from the one who faught death and burned her father and tried to forget it had happened. Only different in the making. In the _remaking._

Because Castiel knit her back together and between her muscles and bones there is something nestled that maybe the angel didn't even know he'd put there. A want, growing and swelling big enough to rival her needs. 

Dean _needs_ Sam. Needs him like she shouldn't. But she _wants_ Castiel.

And she knows that, if she does what she wants, there won't be any going back. She could live the rest of her life without ever knowing him the way she wants to. Dean could stop here. But there's a fire in her that she can't settle now. She wonders if she asked Sam, if she said the words outloud: _I need you, will you do this for me?_ \-- she wonders if he would. Ruby sees it. Ruby laughs at it. At the way Dean stiffens when the demon runs her hands over Sam's spine, or whispers in his ear. And it's fine. It's okay. It's just that Ruby has what she needs.

Thankfully, Ruby doesn't have what Dean _wants._ And that's where she's winning.

"You're alone," Castiel notes and Dean has to fight the urge to congratulate his deductive skills. "Is Sam with the demon?"

"Only the demon alcohol." Castiel raises an eyebrow. "He's drunk. He passed out."

"And you? You drove, I see." Dean nods, chewing on her thumbnail and giving Castiel the once over. If he's in her head, he doesn't say anything. She's watching carefully, trying to figure out if this is a bad idea or a fucking horrible idea because it can't be good. Dean doesn't have good ideas when it comes to the things she wants.

"Can I ask you something?" Castiel nods. "When you pulled me out, did you say anything to me?" Castiel thinks on it for a moment.

"I said you were loved."

"Did you say my name?"

"I believe so, yes."

"In this voice? Or your true voice." Castiel frowns and shifts in his seat, staring out the window. "Sorry. I just--"

"Curiousity is not a sin." 

_It is if you're me,_ Dean doesn't say. 

"Your mind is in a fog," Castiel comments, turning back to her. "I can't see your motives clearly. Or what you're thinking. Then again, I am probably not trying hard enough."

"Try harder," Dean suggests, angling herself toward him. Castiel shakes his head. "Come on. Probe me, or whatever." The joke is lost on the angel, but he looks at her anyway, as if he knows she's abusing her sense of humor. 

Castiel leans very close and Dean can feel the warm pant of his breath on her brow. She wets her lips and looks right up into Castiel's strange blue eyes, feeling him zero in on the center of her thoughts and pull them out. _Not the thread,_ she thinks. _Don't you take that from me._ And because Castiel is suddenly buried very deep in her consciousness, he knows what she means and he pulls away, aware of her thoughts and intentions. Aware of her needs and wants. 

When he pulls away, Dean realizes she's sobbing.

"I am not Sam."

"I know."

"You can't _have_ Sam." _That's a lie,_ she says, her thoughts pleading. _I can, I just won't ask._ "Dean, Sam can't be yours. Not like that." Dean closes her eyes and wipes the tears away with the base of her hand. "You love him like you should not."

"Don't tell me how I should love my brother. I don't tell you how you should love yours." Castiel frowns.

"It isn't the same. Don't make it that way." He touches her shoulder, fingers the mark there. "You can't have Sam." Dean looks up, feeling the spark between Castiel's touch and the place where he marked her, so many weeks ago. She swallows around the feelings stuck in her throat. Castiel doesn't know what she does. Someday, she might ask and someday Sam will say yes. 

"Can I have you?" Castiel's eyes betray his solidness, his righteousness of thought, his carefully constructed façade. He swallows and glances at his hands, looking for an answer. Dean threads his fingers through her own and hauls herself into his lap. "I shouldn't want Sam the way I do. But I do. I have."

"I know."

"I want you, too, you know. Both of you." She whispers this along the shell of his ear, tongue darting out to lick at the sweat along the side of his neck. Castiel's hands land awkward at her sides. "I want so many things."

"It is not a sin to want."

"The way I do it is."

"God forgives." Dean laughs.

"Do you?"

 

Dean drives them a little ways north and checks them into a motel off the highway. Castiel follows obediently enough -- he's seen into her head and he's seen what she thinks of him and what she wants of him. He's seen the way she's thought about Sam and if that scares him or turns him off, he doesn't let on. It might not endear her to him, but it doesn't stop him from undressing when she tells him to. 

"Is this against the rules?" Dean asks.

"There are no rules for this."

"Good." There's a quip in there somewhere about breaking things and destroying things and ripping everything apart, but Dean doesn't have it in her. She pulls off her shirt and snaps off her bra. Castiel has enough sense to strip off his coat and some of his clothes, but Dean undoes his belt, letting the loose trousers fall to the ground. She brushes her fingers over the fabric of his boxers covering his cock and smiles when she hears his breath hitch in his throat.

She's imagined Castiel, too, these past few days. Thought about him and what it might mean to fuck him. For the angel. For the vessel. She's aware that Castiel's body isn't _his_ body, and she wants to ask about this other man, the third wheel in her fantasies, the one she's so insanely curious about it might eat her alive. 

"Stop thinking about him," Castiel murmurs and if Dean didn't know better, she'd think he was embarrassed by it all. His cheeks flush. 

"What's his name?"

"I said _stop._ " Castiel silences her with a kiss, something she hasn't really taught him yet. It's well-intentioned, but poorly executed, and sloppy and wet and open mouthed and Dean secretly _loves_ it, swiping her tongue along his and pulling them both toward the bed. Castiel manages to kick away his boxers as Dean skins out of her jeans and underwear. "You're beautiful," he says without missing a beat. 

"Uh, thanks." It feels odd to have someone compliment her that way, without inhibition or ulterior motives -- considering Dean's the one with all the motives, it's only right that Castiel not have any, but he takes advantage of the situation anyway, kissing her with a bit more finnesse this time, sending warm waves through Dean's belly and to her toes.

 

She teaches him how to crook his fingers deep inside her, just _so_ \-- and she comes in the first few minutes, Castiel's thumb circling her clit, her fingernails leaving half-moon indents on his chest as she clenches around him. " _Cas_ , oh _fuck_ \--" He pulls his fingers out of her, watch her carefully. Dean takes them in her hand, relishing in the cooling wetness. "Here." She pushes them gently, one by one, into Castiel's mouth and he licks them clean.

"I want to see you do that again," he murmurs. Dean grins and obliges.

 

Castiel's first orgasm spills into Dean's mouth as she swallows him down. His cock is warm and full between her cheeks and she misses the taste when she pulls off to lick the shaft.

"Do you imagine Sam doing these things?" he asks, killing the mood. Dean frowns. 

"You were in my head. You know."

"Tell me." Castiel's eyes are bright and strange and Dean draws away, her face flushed and mouth working wordlessly. Castiel brushes the hair from her face and runs his thumb over Dean's bottom lip. "I told you, God forgives."

"You told me I couldn't want him that way."

"Maybe I was wrong." Dean shivers. "Tell me. I want to hear."

And so she whispers the strangled, suppressed fantasies of her childhood self into an angel's ear. She tells him about the first time she came with Sam's name on her lips, when she was seventeen and he'd been practically a kid, really, just fourteen and taller than her and taking girls out for milkshakes or whatever it is Sam thought was romantic. She tells him about seeing Sam grow up and watching him fall in love and watching him leave and praying that he wouldn't come back so she could scour him from her head and her heart. And then he came back and the need was still there, so deeply rooted inside of her she couldn't get it out. 

"Can you get rid of it for me?"

"Why?" Dean straddles Castiel's waist, gripping his cock in her hand. He groans, arching into her touch.

"You know why."

"You love Sam." Dean nods, stroking Castiel to hardness, rubbing his length over her cunt. "You need him."

"Yes," she murmurs. "I do." 

Dean sinks down and Castiel cries out and they're both shocked by the sudden fullness and warmth of one another. She holds him there, letting herself adjust, then pushes herself up and down again. Castiel is useless under for a minute, watching Dean fuck herself on his cock. Then he sits up, balancing her on his lap and wrapping his arms around her. He fucks her relentlessly, until she's breathless and her words are formless on her tongue, just noises now.

"I think--"

"Do it. Oh _fuck_ , Cas. _Cas_ , I swear to God just--" He shoves her onto her back and Dean grabs his cock as he's pulling out, feeling it hot and wet in her hands as it pulses and Castiel shouts her name, come striping her stomach and breasts. "Here. Cas, _here_ \--" Castiel kisses her hip and her thigh and then his tongue is deep inside her and he's pressing two fingers in, sucking at her clit until she comes, fingers tight in his hair and murmuring his name and Sam's name and every prayer she can think because _God_ , she's going straight to hell again. 

 

Castiel rides with her back to the motel. It's only been a few hours, really. Dean sits in the car, her legs still sensitive. Castiel reaches out and curls his fingers around her hand.

"Thank you," he says. "I enjoyed that."

"You weren't bad for a virgin." Castiel flushes. "Thanks, Cas." He nods.

"Any time."

"Is that an open offer?"

"If that is what you'd like it to be. I told you. There aren't rules." Dean nods, leaning her head against the window. 

"Can I ask you something?" Castiel nods. "You told me before that you spoke to me, when you pulled me up. And you...you said I was loved. Why'd you say that? Is there a script for these kind of things?" Castiel shakes his head and Dean swears she almost sees a smile.

"I said you were loved because, when I pulled you from the pit, you told me there'd been a mistake." Dean frowns. "You looked at me and you said, _Go back for someone else. No one needs me here._ You were delusional, of course." He shifts in his seat and waves his hand in dismissal. "I reminded you of Sam and you said that Sam would never forgive you. So I told you that you were loved. I told you that Sam loved you and that Sam needed you. And then you came willingly." Dean closes her eyes and thinks about the noise of the car under her seat and the way Castiel sounds when he's trying to be very kind.

"Thank you," she tells him again. 

"You are loved," he says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "By all. I promise."


End file.
